


To Mouth and Spirit

by CountlessUntruths (KaliCephirot)



Category: Realm of the Elderlings - Robin Hobb
Genre: AU in which Fitz doesn't have his head stuck so deep in his ass, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 05:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20483465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliCephirot/pseuds/CountlessUntruths
Summary: Fitz sighs softly and begins the very arduous task of unwinding his Fool's self from around himself, as gently as he can but, before he's done, barely half way up with one foot on the ground, the arms are back around him and his friend makes a noise as if he was wounded.





	To Mouth and Spirit

He wakes up with the sound of the rain against the roof and with the Fool pressed to his back, arms tightly wound around him, nose pressed against the back of his neck, very cold toes against his calves. Fitz sighs softly and begins the very arduous task of unwinding his Fool's self from around himself, as gently as he can but, before he's done, barely half way up with one foot on the ground, the arms are back around him and his friend makes a noise as if he was wounded. Fitz can't help but smile.

"I'm just going to put more wood to the stove. Then you won't be cold."

The Fool whines again, talking against his back. "Or you could stay right here and warm me in better ways."

Fitz chuckles softly, moves his hand to cover the Fool's, rubbing his fingers. "And after that you will go back to being cold, besides being wet and miserable."

The Fool grumbles and sighs, but he lets him go. "I hate it when you speak logic."

Fitz smiles, standing up, putting on his boots to step up to the fireplace and rekindle the fire, put on more logs, push the kettle closer to the fire for tea. When he turns back to the bed, the Fool has stolen all of the blankets and has put himself inside them like a cocoon. 

"Are you attempting to become a dragon, Fool?" he teases gently.

From deep within the blanket cocoon, he hears his friend's voice. "If I say yes, can I come out until it's warm?"

Fitz doesn't say anything else but he awaits, somewhat patiently, before the Fool sighs again and lifts one corner of the blankets to let him in. Fitz crawls back in and gathers him in his arms, pushing softly until the Fool is on his back, soft golden hair around his face, sleepy, content golden eyes looking at him.

"Liked my idea, did you?" he teases, reaching for him, his hand against the rough of his face where he will have to shave, later. Fitz presses a kiss to his palm.

"Perhaps a little," he accepts, leaning down to kiss his Fool. 

The Fool smiles against his mouth, shifting against him, arms curling around his shoulders. And he was perhaps teasing back, at first, but Fitz cannot help but keep on kissing his Fool and shifting closer, moving from his lips to his cheek, nuzzling against his neck so he can drop a kiss to the sharp line of a collarbone. 

"You're all scratchy, Beloved," the Fool says, clever fingers combing through his hair. Even with his golden colors his skin is still so fair that it's so easy to mark his kisses upon his skin, if he's not careful. 

But it's too early for arduous lovemaking, and the Fool is so sweet like this in his arms, when he can feel hi hardening against his own length. He lets go just enough to pull away his own sleeping clothes without a care and, with all the care he didn't dispense his own clothings, undress the Fool and then letting him pull him back close, to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, until he cannot fathom which heartbeat he's feeling.

The Fool gasps against his neck, nuzzling against him. 

"I don't suppose you were thoughtful enough to bring some ointment with you when you rose?"

"Someone wanted me to hurry."

"Someone things you're more than capable of doing several things at the same time," the Fool retorts before he sighs. "Oh, well. We'll have to make do."

Making do is the Fool rolling over so his back is against Fitz' chest, so that Fitz can press his length between the Fools legs and move against him, and it's him covering the Fool's length with his hand, caressing him gently, and it's Fitz kissing the long line of the Fool's neck. The rain shushes the sound of the outside, mutes the light, and it makes Fitz feel as if they were alone in the world, warm and safe and it's a feeling he does not hate, an idea that he holds somewhat dearly to him. 

The Fool finishes with a sigh of his name, long fingers curled tight around his wrist. Fitz closes his eyes and feels the warmth of his friend in his arms and he follows with a gasp of his own. 

His Fool allows him a few minutes like this before he pushes him off. Fitz lets him go and he stands up to clean up himself, sacrificing some of the warm water of the kettle for his friend. When he mentions breakfast, however, the Fool makes an affronted noise, pulling him back into bed, rearranging Fitz' limbs until he's satisfied, his head against Fitz' chest.

Fitz could tease him about being lazy, or tell him about how they're going to starve if they don't make something to eat, or... he could gather his Fool in his arms, kiss his forehead, and sleep for a little while longer, at least until it's no longer raining.

Sleep wins.


End file.
